The mind conceals inner depths.
A broken psyche, a shadow of death.
Trying to fill the void.

Wander lost under the veil.
A shadow casts a broken sail.
Steering towards the abyss.

Fearing the unknown.
Embrace the shadow I've been told.
Seeking harbor far from home.

Devilish torment -- her body is my lament.
She crawls beneath the cracks and finds
The dark cellar, where my "worst" ferments.
She feeds it as it rots,
Just to make its wine more bitter . . .
Squeezed from the finest lies,
        Designed to make an addict from a quitter.

Like a dark and tempting vacuum
                That my soul cannot escape,
Attractive in its repulsion,
                 It's a part of me that loves the way it hates.
Masturbatory and selfish,
With a thirst that can't be quenched . . .
She finds the spots within me,
                   That make even deities flinch.
Their knees crack and crumble,
                   At its all-consuming "nothing". . .
I never knew my zero could be so wholly unbecoming.

She, or it, will surely be my undoing.
Yet, somehow, that keeps me moving.
So uncomfortably I'll admit . . .
It's the brutal nature of it all,
That I find so disturbingly soothing.

in times of
complete
and utter ruin

the image that
runs laps
around my head

is that of:

eric andre
staring
into nothingness

and hannibal buress
screaming
for help

Sleep...
How wonderful your call,
Yet for me you do not ring,
For what reason do you stall?
Why can't I hear you sing?

My eyes are heavy yet not,
My body cold and numb,
My bed is soft unlike that cot,
Why dou you not come...

Sleep...
              Sleep....
                             Sleep....

Not for me....
Why cant I just dream
Of the worlds I cannot see,
The ones just beyond the seam.

My body fight beyond it's brink,
Pushing against what it needs,
The sleep I wish to sink,
The relief that only sleep breeds.

Then why must my thoughts slip
Back towards the words i said,
Words said as a quip,
Words that anger did wed.

Why must I think always think...
Think think think...
What good comes from the brink?
What thoughts are drowned in a sink?

I do not now....

But for now...

Sleep has finally called me,
But the only button I have
Is the red button of tonight,
And now the dark consumes all...

IF  my  f o o t
      f
          a l ls
  beside a metaMAGICAL-\
super-luminous   h e a r t
   say i ate  equations
of the deepest  soulMIND
  in nature   IF the simple
call it  "nature"  let  my
    even/-KIND heart whisper
,"sir, to do because they
cannot mean more --
  the weeds and gossamer
which emotions (while) mind
  immeasurably roots
between sounds of lovers
  and music and wine and smoke
~~ all these souls!
MINDS and eyes of these
  who listen-life    say:

  "______"
if my  f o o t
     f
       a l l s
  beside a metaMAGICAL!

:: 09-10-2015 ::
:: Rev: 09-20-2018 ::

A harsh breath ices over my soul
which shrivels up but refuses to cease
My ruby jewel running a wicked race
the end of which is never told
The owner of the gust is not me
For from the skeletal society it be

Someone has died in satisfaction
his life taken by asphyxiation
A crow comes close by to roost
near the man held with the noose
Expectations formed a hemp binding
Pressure pushed the strings holding

Another shattered from hypothermia
his mind no longer in hysteria
Fangs of a beast cacaphonously crash
but soon fade as the man a hash
Lack of human warmth drained
Pathos of his predicament claimed

One more exploded onto cold concrete
jumping free from a tight restraint
Belligerent buzzing blasts through
feeding on crimson blood just drew
Endless horizons rest on the tower
man consumed by endless power

I took my hand and grasped rubber
carbon-iron alloy spelling trouble
At my chest I flash the deliverer
aiming at one who is none the wiser
You can hear a thunderclap and the rain
for life from this lad has been drain

I jest.

Human nature dictates we protect
even if our minds are not intact
My spirit may be wholly extinguished
but to the bitter end my flesh pulsated
Only in dreams can I **** myself
for then I can expose my unhealth

My Mind - is not My own.

It is the sleepless nights,
the empty stares,
the half-hearted comments
the quickening breaths.

It is the clouded days,
the fizzling thoughts
the fear that is constant

My Mind - it is not.

Just another machination
of my poor imagination
I try to hold, it all comes loose
Beneath the sun, beneath the aging noose.
Obligated by design
I wave my hand, you turn back time
Taking orders 'til I'm dead
It doesn't matter, you're just in my head.
Give in to pyromania
To satisfy my cranium
And when I do get burnt, the scars
mark every lesson learnt, at least thus far.
I wish that I could satisfy
the image that I know that I
could realize if I could just
do this or that or these, but it's all bust.
I'm sick and tired of being told
what people think I think. It's old.
I listen to your words again,
smile, nod my head, and just pretend.